


Nobody Else Will Be There

by shytrash



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Casual Sex, Cocaine, Depression, Drug Use, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Marijuana, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Self-Destruction, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony has so much guilt, i guess, so many issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2018-12-31 14:11:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12134181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shytrash/pseuds/shytrash
Summary: Tony's drowning in guilt and alcohol after his gigantic fuck-up known as Ultron and the complete destruction of Sovokia. He's spiralling, knows he's spiralling and can't stop it. Won't stop it.Formely titled as Waves





	1. Slipped

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to say that this work is my baby, my angst filled baby, and I want it to be amazing. I've been unable to find the energy and motivation to continue it due to working full-time and being in a bit of a depressed bubble the last few months, but it's happening. I'm going to be rewriting and revamping this story so I can fall in love with it all over again. So far, there won't be major changes done, but I want to add more detail and push myself to further my writing.  
> So, if you're still following the story, thank you. And I hope you guys stick around until I can bust my ass into redoing this and giving it the justice it deserves. I'll aim for weekly updates, but it may be fortnightly. I'll let you know next update!
> 
> But honestly, thank you so much for reading my work. 
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you can tell I've tried so much harder this chapter and I really hope you like the improvements.

He wondered when everything around him became so dull. The colours faded out of his surroundings, becoming muted and lifeless. As he walked through the empty lounge room, his ever working mind finally slowed down as his eyes drifted across his view of New York city. It was late, yet the lights from the city made the skyline almost glow a faint white against the black of the sky. If he didn’t find somewhere to lay down, his legs would give way in a few minutes. His body ached, deep down into his bones, with exhaustion that wasn’t caused by his unhealthy working binges. 

 

“Where are you going, Tony?” He heard someone yell, a deep voice calling out for him. Steve? Clint? He had no clue. 

 

Tony physically couldn't bring himself to turn around and find out who it was, so he yelled “ _ work,” _ over his shoulder and kept walking. Whoever it wasn't knew better than to try and stop him. 

 

Once he was down in the safety of his lab, the mechanic collapsed on the nearest couch. The bots were whirring and beeping, slowly making their way over to their already half asleep  creator. His eyes were heavy, his mind shutting down and forcing him to sleep, even if it was for a few hours. Just enough to make sure he was functional so he could finish working.

 

It was becoming harder and harder to find the motivation to work, he would start to pull up plans and blueprints, he would try and lose himself in the work, the stimulation his mind needed to keep him together, however he usually ends up sitting at his bench and staring at the mess before him. Burying himself in his work didn’t work this time, though.

 

It was almost like waves. Slowly the tide came in, a subtle numbness that pulled at the edges of his mind, a black fuzziness that almost seemed blissful and pleasant, the need to give in and let it wash over himself was compelling - until the waves were crashing over him. Pulling him down, forcing the air out of his lungs and  _ suffocating _ him as he struggled against it until he couldn’t do it anymore. Until he was left shaking, breaths coming out in short gasps as the familiar feeling of emptiness spread throughout his veins like the cold. Sometime, the unsettling emotional state would make him shut down completely, and he could sleep for days. He would wake up every couple of hours and still feel the heavy weight on his chest, rendering him unable to do anything else but go back to sleep and he was  _ almost _ thankful for the dreamless sleep that followed.

 

-

 

When he opened his eyes next, the workshop was covered in darkness. It was quiet and Tony wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep. No one had come down to wake him up, or maybe Friday had kept them away for him.

.

Even though his bones still ached, Tony pulled himself up slowly and rested his head on the back of the couch, letting his eyes slide shut. The side of his head was throbbing and he was dying for something to drink, something golden-brown that burned on the way down.

 

“Friday, what’s the time?” His voice was so quiet in the large room, all of his usual sass and enthusiasm drained away. 

 

“It is 6:15 at night.” His eyes snapped open at Friday’s answer. 

 

“Fuck, really? What time did I go to sleep?” he groaned, running a hand through his slightly greasy hair, cringing at the feel of it.  _ Shower. Shower and a drink.  _

 

“Boss, you fell asleep at 2 o’clock in the morning. You have slept a total of sixteen hours and fifteen minutes.” She spoke softly, her irish accent just loud enough for him to hear. He was so thankful.

 

He managed to sleep for a full fucking sixteen hours? It’s been ages since that’s happened. Granted, he didn’t feel much better than he did before he crashed, but at least he was able to sleep for more than four hours.  _ Way _ longer than four hours. It took him awhile to find the motivation to stand up, his legs feeling like jelly as he pushed himself up, however now that the lab wasn’t pitch black he could find something to fulfil his needs. Walking was his next big task. He felt unsteady as he pushed himself off of the couch, he shouldn’t have fallen asleep on the fucking couch, he’s getting old. His back will never forgive him.

 

The nearest workbench was covered in little pieces of metal, half finish gauntlets that will probably never be finished, if he’s honest. There was blueprints and pieces of paper filled with his messiest handwriting, the kind of scribbles that only make an appearance after three in the morning and seven cups of coffee. Opening the bottom drawer next to him, he scanned the drawer for a small bottle of scotch. He kept mini-sized bottles of alcohol scattered throughout his lab, which was probably more pathetic than he cared to admit. 

 

“No access to the workshop, for anyone. Disable override commands.” Alone was what he wanted. What he needed, to get through this without dragging anyone else down. He did not want or need anyone else's pity. To the outside world, he is Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, witty and downright handsome. When his moods plummeted like this he only wanted Rhodey around, and that was simply because Rhodey had been there for him, always. Had seen all of his bad sides and had  _ stayed.  _ They had a bond that seemed unbreakable - although Tony always knew it could be broken if he stepped too far out of line. 

 

When he opens the tiny bottle of liquor, he tries not to think about Rhodey falling out of the sky when he swallows the first mouthful. 

  
  


-

 

Soon enough he ends up sitting on the stool at his workbench, the bottom drawer open and empty of all ridiculously tiny liquor bottles. The empty bottles themselves are littered around the room, or they’ve been smashed. Tony’s tempted to throw more across the room so he can watch them shatter all over the floor. It's almost mesmerizing, watching the little pieces of glass dance across the floor until they lay still, broken into pieces so small that it’s impossible to even think about putting them back together.

 

He could hear his phone vibrating across the table. It’s probably Pepper, Tony knew, and he  _ should _ answer it. The idea of listening to his former girlfriend seems unbearable right now, however, so he chooses to ignore it. He doesn’t need to be reminded of yet another part of his life his managed to mess up. Whenever he thinks about how it went wrong with Pepper, he can’t help but think about the team that’s living in his tower. They’ve hardly spoken to him in weeks, maybe months if he could remember what day it was, and there’s some very clear and obvious tension brewing. 

 

They work well without him, though. He doesn't feel overly close to any of them anymore, definitely not after everything that's happened. He’s chosen to stop going on most missions, Iron Man and his skills aren’t as needed as the others. They’re  _ real  _ superheroes. It's fine, though, because it’s not like he  _ needs  _ them. He merely  _ wants  _ them, wants the family unit they had become before everything unfolded. Nowadays, he simply provides them with shelter, food, money and whatever else they need. That's enough. Enough to keep them at arm's length and not a fucking inch closer. It isn’t like any of them actively seek out a relationship with the genius, not after Ultron and the destruction in Sokovia that was his fault. 

 

Tony sighed as he picked up his now silent phone, scrolling through the list of people who've tried to reach him. Seven missed calls from Pep, a record amount of five from Happy, and finally another three from Rhodey. Anger flared up in the tipsy genius and he felt the need to throw his phone across the room, watch it shatter and break. He’s allowed to be alone, allowed to want his privacy and time away without being worried after like he’s fragile, like he needs to be watched over. Somehow it’s now two in the morning, his phone tells him, and he needs to get out of his lab before he loses his mind.

 

Once he knew none of the team members were around,  _ thank God for Friday,  _ he decided it was safe to move up to the penthouse. Away from anyone trying to talk to him, pity him and offer their  _ help  _ like it was something he needed. No. He was Tony fucking Stark. He did not need anyone to save him from the black hole of guilt and misery he was letting himself be sucked into. After all, isn’t it what he deserved for the pain and destruction he caused?

 

The halls were empty and dimly lit as he walked to the elevator, and Tony couldn’t help but remember when he would walk through these halls with Bruce, eager to get to the lab and create together. “Penthouse, boss?” Friday’s voice was right above him in the elevator and he almost jumped out of his damn skin. 

 

“Yes, please.” His voice was hoarse and scratchy compared to Friday’s smooth quiet tone. The ride seemed to go on forever and relief flooded through Tony when the doors opened and he was on his own floor, with no one allowed access, and nothing for him to do except drink and sleep, or something along those lines. 

 

He decided to sit on the balcony, at the spot where Thor and Loki fought a few years ago. When he pushed open the balcony door, bottle of half empty bourbon in hand, he was relieved it was cool out. He sat so his legs were hanging off the edge and he took a swig of the amber liquid. Sitting out here meant his thoughts drifted back to the famous Battle of New York. The manic look in Loki’s eyes as he pressed the sceptre to Tony’s chest, when the wormhole had opened up and these monsters that Tony had only ever saw in movies flew out of the fucking sky. It was an event that changed his world yet again, and everyone else's. It changed the world. 

 

The memories of flying the missile into that fucking wormhole still makes his breathing uneven. His skin was hot and his hands were shaking suddenly, his whole body was fucking shaking. What felt like hours passed as Tony desperately tried to calm himself down, thoughts of Pepper’s voicemail and the knowledge that he would die without hearing her voice threatening to push him over the edge and straight into another anxiety attack. His hand rubbed where the arc reactor used to be, and he missed the sound of it humming quietly sometimes. It was better than the total silence he was left in. 

 

Laying down against the cool balcony, the genius had finally managed to get his breathing under control, although he was still shaking slightly. He can’t help but wonder how big of a deal it would be if he ‘accidentally' slipped off the ledge. Would he regret it halfway down? Scream for a suit and hope it reaches him in time? Tony thinks it would be peaceful. To finally let go, shed the guilt and rage that weighs him down so heavily. To be done with the issues he faces and to stop ruining so many people's lives.  _ Nobody would be too upset,  _ he thinks.  _ Not after everything I’ve done.  _ Plus, they really could rule his death an accident with how drunk he is right now. He hadn’t meant to drink so much, he didn’t even realize he had until he came out here. So, he lays there with his mind struggling to control his thoughts until the sky started to brighten and he finally decided it was time to stumble to the couch and pass out.

 

-

 

Tony Stark stayed in isolation for three weeks until he emerged, standing in the communal kitchen while he waited for his coffee to finish. He wasn't sure why the team has a better coffee machine than he did, this was  _ his  _ tower, after all. He made a mental note to have Friday buy one for his floor, or swap his one with this so they could deal with lesser quality coffees because he enjoys being petty. While he stood leaning against the counter across from the coffee machine that buzzed and whirred silently, he could feel eyes on his back. Most of the team were at the table, eating a meal together. Breakfast? Lunch? Brunch? It was bright outside, but he has no clue what the time is. 

 

“Where have you been, Stark?” Natasha’s voice was cold, like ice that slid down his back unpleasantly. 

 

“Why? Miss me?” He replied sarcastically. “I’m sure Friday has kept you guys updated.” 

 

“She says you've been in the penthouse. For three whole weeks? What have you been doing up there?!” Tony could hear Steve’s chair scrape across the floor as he stood, anger and concern and  _ patriotism _ painfully clear in his words. 

 

“I've been busy, Rogers.  _ Working.  _ It's almost like you guys forget I own a very successful business.” He knew it was bullshit, knew they knew it was bullshit, but didn't care. Of course he didn’t completely lock himself in the penthouse, he did use his private elevator to travel down to his workshop a couple times - but they didn’t need that information. He pulled out a small flask, unscrewing the lid to pour a decent amount of his favourite alcohol into his hot coffee, and it was then he could basically hear Steve's mouth fall open. 

 

“It's eleven in the fucking morning, Tony!” Clint almost growled and the genius smirked to himself. 

 

“It helps with the hangover, Bird brain. I didn't know you cared so much.” He looked over his shoulder as his icy words caused Clint to stare daggers at the older man. 

 

Tony decided it was time to  leave after that. The Captains, and the rest of the teams, pestering was unnecessary and he didn't fucking want  _ or  _ need it. Not from him, not from any of them. He ignored his name being called and he tried to stop himself from running to the elevator, back to the safety of his lab. It was easier to keep them away, keep them as far as he could to avoid them getting in his way. 

 

When the elevator doors opened, he almost stumbled out, head pounding and eyes burning with how bright it was down here, he tried to focus on keeping himself upright to avoid spilling his precious coffee. Maybe he should install a workshop on his private floor, he thought to himself, save the trips back up to his floor. Currently, his lab was four floors below his penthouse. It was below the communal living and kitchen area, as well as the shared living floors the team had. He thought it would be a bit safer this way, although now he doesn’t care as much..

 

Tony didn’t realize just how fucking tired he was as he stretched and walked across his lab. Three weeks spent up on his floor, ignoring phone calls and sleeping too much. His body ached from passing out in awkward positions, drunk out of his mind. He sat on his stool and chose to inspect the project that covered his workbench since before he went into lockdown. The lab hadn’t changed in the three weeks he locked himself away, the bots usually kept it clean and tidy for him when they weren’t bringing bits and pieces to the penthouse for him. 

 

-

 

Dropping the prototype mini arc reactor, the inventor groaned as his back protested at the angle he was sitting in. This was probably one of his longest benders since he graduated from MIT and god, was that something. Honestly, he couldn’t remember too much of the last three weeks. He does know he was drunk for a lot of it and he was so thankful he could get alcohol delivered to him up here. Sure, it was weird to ask the delivery guys to leave alcohol in the elevator, but when you’re Tony Stark, who the fuck cares what people think? 

 

It was getting harder to feel anything these days, unless he was drunk and crying or yelling at nobody in particular, anger pouring out of him. Maybe Tony was in too deep, too far gone for him to be able to pull himself out of this. If he had any sense at all he would call Rhodey, open up to him and tell him how messed up he’s getting. 

 

Since when has Tony Stark ever done the right thing?


	2. Lean

Tony managed to keep himself tucked away inside the tower after the coffee incident for four more weeks. He turned his phone off after a couple of days once he knew that he wouldn’t stop hearing his Metallica ringtone. Friday only let through urgent notifications that  _ weren’t  _ just Pepper wanting to know how he’s doing and  _ would you please just answer my messages, Tony, I’m worried  _ from Steve, of all people _.  _ Eventually, Tony heard less and less from Friday as the weeks melted together. Tony trusted Pepper, she knew he trusted her with his damn  _ life  _ \- even if things ended badly between them _.  _ She's smart, so fucking smart, so Tony doesn't feel too bad for ignoring her when it comes to business. She can do a great job without him, has been doing so for ages. 

 

Rhodey called a lot too. The older man started to email him now his phone goes straight to voicemail. Tony doesn’t like to read them but he can’t help but hang onto every word he sends. They fill him to the brim with guilt that threatens to overflow with each new arrival. Sometimes they're long and talk about what's happening with the team and War Machine. Sometimes they're short, simple messages that reminded him that Rhodey would drop everything and come help him _.  _ It makes the mechanics chest ache, the desire to type a simple reply burning within him. No matter how hard he tries his hands can’t type out a simple  _ come, please. _

 

Rhodey has always been Tony’s annoying, protective mother-hen. Ever since meeting him in MIT Rhodey was there, making sure the younger man would get back to their dorm safely after a party, no matter how messy and out of control he was. When Tony woke up, head pounding and unable to bear anything but darkness and minimal loud noises, there would be painkillers and water next to his bed, possibly a bucket as well if he thought it was needed. Granted, there was certainly times when the older man would scold Tony. They would fight over his drinking and immature behaviour and after his parents death, the young genius went steadily downhill. 

 

Now, years later, the pair have been through shit nobody saw coming. Tony knows and appreciates how much Rhodey cares for him and Tony doesn’t think he’s ever loved somebody that he hasn’t slept with so much. When Tony began to pull back from the team, War Machine almost begged him to come on missions, to suit up and do what Iron Man loves doing. Tony pulled harder though, the suit had become an issue since Ultron - Tony couldn’t be in it for long periods of time anymore. He’s unsure of his suits power, if he’s attacking right and making the proper moves. It leaves him unguarded and vulnerable on missions and that was something that War Machine understood and so, slowly he stepped back and let Iron Man take the backseat. 

 

Steve, on the other hand, had been very happy at Iron Man’s lack of presence in the group. He had made it clear that he thought Tony needed some time away after this disaster that was Ultron. The pair have always been on thin ice around each other, although lately that ice has finally started to crack. There’s simply too much bad blood between them now, from their harsh and sometimes scathting views of each other to Steve’s lack of knowledge on the kind of man Howard Stark  _ really _ was. It’s hard for Tony to be in the same room as the Captain, who oozes patriotism at every angle, all spandex and self-righteousness. His father's true work of art, the one thing Howard always praised as his best work standing right in front of his eyes. It almost pained him, if he wasn’t too busy pretending to deny his feelings on the matter.

 

Tony knew that Grandpa Rogers would  _ never  _ believe that his close friend Howard Stark was an abusive shitstain. The constant  _ you're not good enough _ and  _ you're not a real man, not like Captain America,  _ was what he heard almost daily from his father _.  _ It was endless, even when the genius graduated from MIT at the top of his class, aced all of his subjects to prove he could do it, he would be smarter than his father and make maybe him even a little bit proud. Howard didn't attend his graduation, though. Howard didn't even say congratulations. Eventually, the disappointment Tony felt made way for anger and resentment when his father continued to let him down throughout his life. There’s a grudge there that has lasted for the rest of Tony's life, even though his father's been dead for over a decade now. 

 

-

 

“Friday, distract me. Talk, play music. Just do something, please.” Tony's voice was hoarse, his throat ached with the need for liquid, he sounded so small in his vast bedroom suddenly. He was huddled into the corner of his bed, back against the wall. There was a half empty bottle of vodka in his lap, lid missing somewhere within his sheets.

 

His AI’s voice filled the room and he listened, trying to focus on keeping his breathing even. She talked about the robots and how they were doing, changes in climate change, and numerous other mind numbing topics until the feeling of panic and pain receded to a bearable level. He thought back to the times he would sit in the Malibu house, drink in hand while he sat in his lab, asking Jarvis to talk to him when he was overwhelmed or wound up. Jarvis, the butler, was the first major death Tony had to deal with in his life and he clearly remembers when he decided to make the artificial intelligence to commemorate his beloved Jarvis forever.

 

Tony had spent two weeks partying, drinking, snorting lines of varying substances off of chicks just as fucked up as him at the time. He tried his damn best to be such a mess that he couldn’t think about Jarvis at all anymore, which seemed childish to his father, but the pain he had felt was deep and overwhelming. Rhodey had known him for a short while, although it was clear he was more worried than usual for the younger man. The grief he had felt at losing his Jarvis had crushed him and when the partying wasn’t helping, wasn’t numbing the pain to a bearable level he could withstand, he had to put his mind to work and decided to make sure he  _ always _ had a reminder of Jarvis.

 

He had spent weeks working on getting Jarvis’ voice  _ exactly _ right. That was the biggest part of the AI to him. Of course Rhodey had thought it wasn’t healthy to create an artificial intelligence with the voice of his recently deceased butler, in the grand scheme of things, however, it was probably one of the most sane things he had done. Once he had Jarvis stable enough to do basic commands, even Rhodey was impressed and saw how it made Tony start to smile when he heard Jarvis talk back to him. It helped, he began to grieve instead of burying it all. The list of people who he grieves for keeps growing throughout his life though, and now it was getting too long to keep track of. All the guilt that he had weighed him down, the heavy weight on his chest, reminded him too much of being buried underneath his crumbling Malibu mansion, everybody he had lost flashing before his eyes as he tried to escape.

 

Tony, as quickly as he could in his drunk as fuck state, began to climb out of bed, suddenly overcome with the urge to get out and leave the tower so he could go somewhere to truly try to forget about  _ everything.  _ Even if it’s simply for a few hours, so he can try to feel a bit more normal, more like himself. He knows he can’t stay locked up in his tower forever, he would go-  _ is  _ going insane. His tower suddenly seemed too small, almost like the walls are beginning to close in on him and he is not sober enough to deal with that - luckily he still has his half empty bottle of vodka in his hand.

 

He makes his way to the garage after trying to make himself look more put together than he really is, making sure Friday doesn’t open the elevator for anyone at all. Although, he wasn’t quite sure who was even awake at two in the morning on a Sunday night in the tower. Probably Bruce. When he gets there, a taxi is waiting for him and he once again thanks himself for creating only the best artificial intelligences in the world. Better than waking up Happy and dealing with  _ that.  _ Happy cares deeply for him, the genius knows he does, but he doesn’t want Hap’s worrying looks and questions and the  _ guilt  _ he feels when he sees his friend _. _

 

Friday was under strict rules to keep his whereabouts hidden from the others, unless something was wrong. This way he could relax and not worry about his team trying to drag him back to the tower. Maybe he was being overdramatic, maybe the team wouldn’t even ask for his location, but he can’t help himself. He doesn’t want to be found for a while. 

 

The cab ride was silent, the driver hardly paid attention to him, which was a silent blessing. He let himself relax now that the tower was beginning to fade into the distance. The streets of New York weren’t as full as the previous night, and Tony couldn’t help but notice the still half-repaired buildings from Loki’s attempt at world domination. Most of the city was rebuilt fairly quickly after the whole Loki incident, but the areas that still weren’t finished was hard for Tony to look at the reminders of what happened as he sat in the cab. It filled him with not only guilt, because everything fucking makes him feel guilty nowadays, but complete and utter dread. The feeling of looking out into endless space and knowing this was just the start of it all.

 

Eventually the cab pulled up next to a club that Tony knew looked extremely sleazy. He used to come here a lot. Mainly because he could sit at the bar and drink himself to death and nobody would stop him, or ask to take a photo with him. To them, Tony Stark was just another body in the club who wanted to be left alone to his own devices, and they did not care at all. It was exactly what he needed. He threw a handful of notes at the cab driver, ensuring that he gave the driver enough to keep quiet in case _anybody_ had questions for him about Tony Stark's late night travels.

 

-

 

“Fuck,” he said to nobody in particular, looking down and attempting to see exactly how much vodka he had managed to spill onto his jeans. When he realized it wasn’t enough for him to care, he downed the rest of the shot he held in his hands and tried his best to place the empty shot glass on the bar in front of him without knocking it over and bringing attention to how much of a mess he is. 

 

The music here was loud, but not too loud where his head hurt and he wanted to leave. Loud enough that it was hard for him to hear himself think properly, instead he sat and swayed to the music. Last time he looked at his clock it was almost four in the morning. This place was beginning to slow down, people stumbling out and waiting for cabs. The idea of heading back to the tower didn’t sit well with Tony, he didn’t want to go back there and be stuck with reminders of his many, many mistakes. 

 

Instead, he decides to leave the club and head further into the dodgy neighbourhood he’s currently in, determined to find something stronger than alcohol to clear his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being so late. Again!   
> I've started work on the next chapter, so hopefully if you still wanna read, I can make it happen.


End file.
